


Sansa's Flowering

by Tittybiscuit



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Menstruation, Sexual Fantasy, repost, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:37:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4632408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tittybiscuit/pseuds/Tittybiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reuploading my GoT stories onto my new account. I have reread them and jiggled with some but they're still unbeta'd. </p><p>Comment's are welcome and massively appreciated!<br/>Originally Written for a friend. Carries on from the episode where Sansa first bleeds, just with added wanking and fantasy</p><p>I own nothing, nobody or no-how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sansa's Flowering

The sounds of raised voices and the scuffing of feet on the stone floor caught Sandors attention and immediately set him on edge; he touched the helm of his sword unconsciously and began striding to towards the noise. He caught a swish of light material as an unknown assailant ran down the stairs below before turning his large body into the small corridor, grimacing at the realisation that he was wearing his cloak. That would slow him down in a fight if it came to it.

He walked towards a soft sobbing noise, a snuffling which reminded him of the new-born puppies currently in the kennels he passed by on the way to training; he recognised it as Sansa’s and walked faster. Grabbing his sword handle, he walked through the doorway and stopping dead in his tracks as he saw the little bird, red-faced from crying and stabbing at a large blood stain on her mattress. Sandor lowered his head at the scene, sighing and feeling slightly embarrassed at coming across such a terrible moment. He removed his hand from his sword and walked towards the large bed, disarming the girl quickly and without argument; she would be no threat to Sandor, but he didn’t want to risk her trying something ridiculous either to herself or him.

‘Quiet now little bird, its okay’ He tried to soothe, his gruff voice sounding too loud in the confines of the stone chamber

‘My… My lord, you should not be here, I am not properly attired and… and… oh, gods… the blood’ Sansa said, collapsing into another breathless sobbing attack.

Sandor could smell the blood in the room; he had attempted not to look at the soiled bedding to spare the poor girl a little bit of modesty but the strangely clean odour of Sansa's body, her blood and the thick smell of her sleep was still lingering in the early morning air. He could feel his cock twitch inside his breeches and he had to actively concentrate on a small spot on the wall to control the hardening of his shaft.

‘Her grace will need to know about this’ Sandor said softly, hating that he was upsetting the girl further.

Sansa meekly nodded her head in agreement, she realised she couldn’t hide it now; Varys would probably already know and she wasn’t sure where Shae had disappeared to when she had pursued another of Sansa's handmaidens. Sansas stomach ached worse than anything she had ever felt, like a thousand hot knives, stabbing into her lower tummy and she could feel a strange slickness in her mound which she knew to be blood but couldn’t bring herself to look at. She rubbed her legs together to try and find a comfortable position on the bed until she realised she was doing this in front of the Hound. She blushed again, lowering her head demurely and allowing her tears to soundlessly fall onto the soft fabric of her nightshift.

Sandor stood silently; he felt guilty imposing on this poor young girl’s dismay and it was obviously her first bleed. Rumours had been all over the keep for months that the girl’s time was near; the soldiers had discussed her rapidly growing breasts and the curve of her waist which was slowly developing. Rumour had it that a great deal of money was being bet around the palace as to when Joffrey would fuck Sansa and get a child in her. Sandor had tried to keep away from these discussions, he tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to know these things; the bleeding of women was not something to be discussed by men, unless they were maesters of course, but especially not soldiers discussing the courses of a high-born like Sansa Stark.

The truth of it was that Sandor had tried to fight his growing lust for Sansa. He had noticed her childish body becoming more womanly, he had watched her grow from a silly naïve child into a woman, who although was still naïve, she was becoming more confident in playing the game and using her wiles to manipulate the King; yet here he was, standing at the head of her bed watching as she rubbed her thighs together and wept quietly. Her pink nipples showed through the thin white night shift she was wearing and he longed to reach out and touch her, tell her that everything would be okay, that he would protect her and take her home, away from the capital, away from the Royal family and away from the memories. He would take her home, to Robb, to her mother, wherever she wanted to go, he would follow and protect if only she consented and gave him the word. He would suffer a thousand deaths to protect the girl.

He was startled as he heard the ‘click-clack’ sound of a handmaidens feet hitting the stone floor, he watched as the newest staff member entered the room ( _the Lorathi woman… Sam? Shan? Shae? Something like that)_ Her face fell as she saw Sandor standing at Sansas side but she quickly composed herself, acting as though it was her first time seeing Sansas blood. She gave a quick curtsy before walking quickly to Sansa's arm and helping her stand, taking her through to the water closet where she could begin cleaning herself. Sandor could only watch as Sansa turned her back and began to walk away, a large crimson stain showing through the white material. Sandor waited until both women had left before arranging his cock into a more convenient position and leaving the room, back to his chambers.

He stopped by the Kitchens first to fill up his wineskin ( _and another for good measure_ ) before returning to his own sparse chamber. He barred the door behind him and began taking off his armour. He had been on guard duty overnight, prowling the keep and ensuring his Kings safety but he was glad to be back in his own room. He growled slightly as he attempted to unclasp his breastplate, fiddling with the lock until it fell to the floor with a resonating clang. Once he was down to his breeches alone he walked to the window, opening it wide and smelling the familiar aroma of Kings Landing, dead bodies, shit and the Blackwater, he watched as Sansa and her handmaiden walked across the mezzanine to break her fast with the queen. Sandor tried hard not to stare at the rhythmic sway of Sansas hips as she walked but he quickly found himself erect and aching once again.

He grabbed the closest wineskin and gulped deeply, feeling the sour red wine flood over his tongue despite it being early; he kicked off his boots carelessly, kicking them into a corner before lying down on his large bed. He lifted the skin to his mouth again but missed his mouth completely, allowing rivers of wine to escape down his lips and onto the bed beneath him. The soldier smiled at the coincidence of two sets of white sheets being ruined by red stains before chastising himself at laughing at the poor girl’s misfortune. He put the skin down on the floor and turned onto his side, attempting to fall asleep before he was required on duty again.

His body was restless like he needed a fight or a girl but he knew he had neither. He had not slept for a full day and night and his body was tense; he slowly traced the outline of his cock through the fabric of his breeches, feeling the friction flood his body with a tingling sensation. He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip in frustration before pulling down the fabric and lying naked on his bed. The warm furs which lined the bed tickled his arse slightly as he ran his fingers up and down his thick and hardening shaft; he was half hard already just from that small stimulation as he touched his index finger and thumb together forming a tight circle which he pulled from the base of his cock up to the tip, feeling the baggy skin of his sheath stretch slightly. He groaned quietly and repeated the motion, allowing his hips to thrust up to meet his fingers, as though he was fucking a tight virgin pussy.

Sansa’s pussy he thought. _The auburn curls splitting, revealing her pretty pink folds beneath, he would touch and stroke her pearl and make her arch her back, thrusting her hips  
to meet his strokes. She would coo and moan, her perfect lips making an ‘O’ of pleasure until her legs shook in climax and then he would slowly insert one of his large fingers inside her, stretching her wider than she had ever dared with her own dainty fingers. Oh, gods, Sansa masturbating_, no… no, that would wait for another day.

Sandor moaned deeply as his fingers traced over his large balls, he had not had release in over a week so every trace of his digit was like a flash of lightning up his spine. He sighed as his fist closed around his shaft, stroking a steady rhythm, up, down, up, down, occasionally flicking his wrist as he reached his tip, feeling the pool of precum running over his fingers.

 _Sansa would beg for his cock, ask him to thrust it inside her, stretch her open and split her with his huge cock; she would lick her lips wantonly and pull on her nipples, her moans so loud that Sandor would have to put his large hand over her mouth to stifle them. Her tongue would flick out again, licking and soaking his fingers with her saliva, a naughty glint in her eye as she bucked her hips towards his cock, trying to steal a touch. She would moan quietly as Sandor lined himself up to her opening before slowly inserting himself into her. Her walls would grip his manhood, feeling impossibly tight around him. Her wetness and heat burning through his body like a fever; he would bump against her barrier and look down to gain consent. She would look up at him and nod; placing a chaste kiss on the hand still covering her mouth before Sandor thrust harshly, tearing her maidenhead away and causing her to gasp out_ _loud._

_Sandor would remove his hand and replace it with his mouth; kissing Sansa deeply, her tongue in his mouth, his in hers, dancing together, feeling the panting breaths being swallowed. Sandor would pull away and look down at his lover, asking permission to move which Sansa would grant gladly; circling her hips below Sandors muscled torso, her legs wrapping around his waist to allow him greater access. Sandor would moan and curse in Sansa's ear, calling her little bird and whispering encouraging comments or tell her how beautiful she is, how she deserved better than this life she has, being deflowered by a worthless dog, the second son of no great house. Sansa would lift her hand to cup his burnt cheek before kissing him deeply, her fingers moving to his back to trail her fingernails into his skin, drawing blood and making him hiss._

Sandor could feel his climax approaching rapidly, his cock was leaking between his fingers, dripping into a pool on his stomach; his mouth became parched and he increased the friction of his fingers, wrapping them tighter, thrusting harder, and spreading his juice down his shaft for more lubrication.

_Sansa would be close too, writhing under his body, gasping and begging, telling him that she could feel a strange sensation. Sandor would whisper ‘cum for me Sansa, climax, peak on my cock’ before Sansa would become rigid and tense, her eyes rolling back in her head before climaxing. Her inner walls milking Sandor's hardness; Sandor would grunt and begin his own climax inside of her, growling and moaning her name as he shoots his seed into her wet mound. She would whimper at the heat spreading inside her before Sandor slumped over her, supporting his weight on his arms and kissing her on the forehead_

Sandor groaned low as his climax ripped through his body; the shots of semen travelling as far as his jawline as pulse after pulse of cum coated his stomach. He stroked his cock until the euphoric shudders ended and his head collapsed back onto the feather pillow; his lust sated but the small trace of guilt which always accompanied such amazing climaxes gnawing at his stomach. He grabbed at a tunic and wiped away his seed quickly before covering himself with his sheets and falling asleep.

He dreamt of fire, the same dream he had nightly but the fire changed to a muted shade, merging into a body of a young woman with fire-kissed hair, crying on the floor of a chamber as Stannis Baratheon sacked the city. Sandor began to plot his and Sansas escape. They would go to Winterfell together.


End file.
